Snow is falling again, veiling the trees. The snow is a gauze curtain between me and the world. Stay right where you are, the curtain tells me. Don't push me aside, or brush through me. Stay in this little piece of the world. This piece is enough for you. Why seek more?
I look out the window and the falling flakes dance before me. Already they are patterning the sodden black ground. Soon they will have whitened all the cars and roofs. The snow sticks to the trees like icing. It piles up in round mounds, softening every sharp corner, layering over the realities that lie on the ground. Suddenly the whole world will be clean and beautiful.
But not yet. Right now, the snow is still dancing its ritual of enchantment. The spell of transformation is still being cast, and the snow wants me out of its way, inside. But I am going out. I will push aside the curtain, I will brush through the layers of gauze. I will be present in the cold, sharp, real life that I belong to.